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Roger knocked on the door in front of him and took a deep breath. Some undefinable feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that coming here might not have been the best idea. Nervously he shifted his weight from one leg to the other while pushing some stray hair off his forehead when the door opened and a surprised Rafa peered back at him. “Rog…hola!”
“Uh, hey, sorry, I know it’s super late and I hope I didn’t wake you, you must be exhausted but I wasn’t sure if there’d be another opportunity to get you alone with everything going on tomorrow, so I thought, better now than…not at all…” Roger realized he was rambling and trailed off, hoping he wasn’t actually blushing. He glanced at Rafa, who was looking at him with that infamous raised eyebrow and an otherwise bemused expression.
“Was not sleeping, don’t worry.” Rafa smiled softly but also looked somewhat confused. “Rog, something happened?”
“No, no, everything’s okay. I just…I just wanted to tell you how happy I am, I mean, happy and glad and really thankful, that you actually came here. Because you really didn’t have to. And now you’re even injured. But you came and that’s just…amazing, actually. So yeah, it really means a whole lot to me. And the guys, of course. And obviously the fans. So…just…thanks.” Roger shook his head and wondered when exactly he had turned into an ineloquent idiot. He looked down the hallway, which was thankfully completely empty, and then at his feet when he remembered the item he had been holding in his hand the whole time and quickly held it out to Rafa. “Just a little something. To say thank you. Again.”
When he looked back up, Rafa had the brightest smile on his face, eyes shining with happiness and Roger felt like he forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Chocolate?”
“Swiss chocolate - the very best!”
“Of course”, Rafa laughed softly and their eyes met. Neither of them seemed to be able to look away until the sound of the elevator down the hall made them both turn their heads in that direction. A couple with linked arms and sharing whispered words exited without paying them any mind, walking down the hall in the other direction.
“You want to come in?” The slightly unsure voice of Rafa shifted Roger’s attention back to him.
“I should…” He wanted to say that he should go. Every sensible part of him screamed at him to say good night and go back to the suite he shared with his wife. Whom he loved. A lot. He really, really did. But he couldn’t deny, not even for a second in his own head, that he felt like he was floating above the ground for the last couple of days now, because he was able to spend almost every waking minute with the guy opposite him; talking to him, laughing with him, touching him. Roger could not even explain what it was, why it was different now than two years ago in Prague. And it had been amazing there as well, he had loved every second of it, but somehow this time it was even more intense, he was even more aware of how much he enjoyed being this close to Rafa for an extended period of time. Maybe it was because he was on home soil, realizing and living his dream of brining this event, which had been nothing but a vague idea of his a couple of years ago, to Switzerland. Maybe it was because Prague had been amazing but then came Chicago and Rafa wasn’t there and it had been, even if he’d probably never admit that out loud, a bit of a letdown and he now appreciated even more how special and beautiful what he and Rafa had actually was, how different it was in comparison. Or maybe it was because Rafa was getting married in a couple of weeks and Roger felt like he was losing something he never had. Never will have. Should not even think about wanting, even if there was some kind of vibrating tension between them whenever they were in each other’s presence, at all. Never allowed himself to consider. Yet still, the prospect of spending a bit more time with Rafa alone won out. “Okay. For a little while.”
“You do not need to thank me, by the way”, Rafa stepped aside to let Roger pass and closed the door, following him into the suite. He placed the chocolate on the customary hotel room table with a mirror, telephone, miscellaneous flyers and menus on it. The keycard and Rafa’s credentials looked like they had carelessly been dropped there earlier as well, together with the jacket hanging over the back of the chair in front of the table and in danger of slipping off any moment. “Really happy to be here. You know I really love this event. Proud to be part of it.”
Roger had to restrain himself from simply crossing the distance between them and hugging Rafa, knowing something that was so important to himself meant so much to Rafa. Instead, he shook his head a bit to clear it. “Still. After New York, everyone would’ve understood if you had canceled. Me especially. So just…I don’t take you being here for granted.”
“I want to be here. A lot.” The way Rafa was catching his gaze, making it impossible for Roger to look away, gave those words a lot more significance.
Roger inhaled sharply, the intensity of the gaze making his stomach do weird things. “Rafa-“
“You want a Cola?” Quickly turning away, Rafa crossed the room to the mini bar.
“Yeah. No!” Rafa stopped in his motion of opening the mini bar and looked back at him questioningly, unsurely.
“Water”, Roger quickly added. “Just water, please. No way I’ll get any sleep tonight if I drink a Coke now.”
“Never have that problem.” Rafa’s chuckle sounded relieved when he turned back to the fridge. Or that was just Roger’s imagination. The younger man grabbed a bottle of water for Roger and a Coke for himself, motioning to the couch facing the large floor to ceiling window overlooking the city and the lake. Roger joined him, sitting down at one end while Rafa flopped down on the other and held the bottled water out to him. Roger took it and only now noticed that Rafa’s left hand had a skin colored bandage on it again. With his free hand, Roger gently grabbed Rafa’s forearm, which put them both into a slightly twisted angle with Roger sitting to Rafa’s right. Roger dropped the bottle on the sofa cushion between them and placed Rafa’s hand in the palm of his now free one, the fingers of his other hand softly running over the bandage and up the calloused skin of Rafa’s fingers. “How’s it feel?”
“Not good.” The unfiltered honesty with which Rafa answered made Roger look up from where he was still watching his own fingers caressing Rafa’s palm to find him already staring at him intensely. For a long moment they studied each other’s eyes, dark brown meeting light brown again.
Only when Rafa moved his fingers to lightly entwine them with Roger’s, did their gaze break. Roger swallowed, fascinated by seeing their hands joined together like it was the most normal thing in the world, as if they had done this a thousand times before and Rafa not seeming to find it strange in any way. It also didn’t feel strange, it felt shockingly right. Roger cleared his throat again. “Shouldn’t have played back-to-back, Rafa. Only made it worse.”
“Was worth the risk. You just never know how it goes, this stuff. No luck this time.” Rafa sighed, reluctantly letting go of Roger’s hand. “Just super sad no doubles for us tomorrow, probably.”
“Yeah.” Roger leaned back against the couch, taking his bottle again. “Your health is much more important though. Not making the pain worse.”
Rafa offered him a sad smile, the look in his eyes almost breaking Roger’s heart though. “I’m used to it, no? Is a part of me, like blood flowing in the body, like breathing…just live with it.”
There was nothing Roger could say that would make Rafa feel better, so he just nodded. Of course, Roger himself knew way too well, what it was like to deal with pain, suffer through matches and tournaments while wanting nothing more than just crash to the floor and sob until it stops hurting. Nevertheless, it would feel like a lame platitude to compare his troubles with what the man next to him had to deal with. And Roger probably only knew half of it. As close as they had become over the years, there were still some things they didn’t share with each other. Injuries, especially with the possibility of playing each other soon, were usually one of them. “Maybe it will be better in the morning…”
“Don’t risk it, Raf. The season isn’t over yet. As much as I appreciate your dedication, there’s no point in jeopardizing the rest of the year.”
“I just hate quitting.”
“It’s not quitting, it’s taking care of your body.”
“Yeah, I know. Still feels terrible every time. Especially if it affects others.”
“Don’t worry about that. I, we all, just want you to be healthy.” Roger smiled at him encouragingly.
“Thank you.” Rafa returned the smile, although it took some effort. Roger watched him and Rafa’s smile turned into a grimace with an eyeroll. “Well, at least I don’t have to play against Nick…”
Roger chuckled but had zero interest in going further into that specific topic, certainly not here and now. “Yeah…”
A silence, that wasn’t uncomfortable but still somehow lacked complete calmness, descended over the room. The TV was on and showing the muted coverage of some golf tournament, Roger wasn’t entirely sure Rafa had actually been watching or was just running as distraction in the background. He uncapped his bottle and swallowed half of the content down in one go, dry mouth and throat in desperate need of some fluids. Turning his head, he watched Rafa drinking his Coke, eyes lingering on his throat bopping with every gulp. Roger felt his own throat going dry again and quickly turned his head away, taking another sip from his water before placing the almost empty bottle on the coffee table before him. He had the strong desire to say something to fill the by now nearing awkward silence. “So, wedding soon, hm? Are you nervous?”
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Roger didn’t even know where they had come from. Rafa looked at him with an unreadable expression, not saying anything for so long, Roger was afraid he had actually really offended him. He was about to quickly apologize and get out of the room as fast as possible to not make things more uncomfortable when Rafa finally shrugged. “Not nervous. I love her a lot, no? Been together long, long time. Was always with me…there for me. She is my…best friend.”
“Best friend…” Roger murmured, more to himself as in reply to Rafa. He looked over to the younger man and their eyes met again. “That’s, uhm…”, Roger blinked, eyes moving away from Rafa’s to the window. The illuminated room reflected in the glass, the nightly world outside blurry and barely visible behind. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.” The simple word sounded tired to Roger’s ears, empty and without any conviction behind it. He didn’t know what to make of that. “I trust her. She know me very well…”
“Yeah, that’s good”, Roger said again, not sure if Rafa even wanted a reaction or if he was even talking to Roger right now. Something was not right but he had no idea what it was or what to do about it. “Trust is very important in a relationship”, he added lamely. Through their reflections in the window, he saw Rafa fiddling with the cap of his bottle in his lap. It seemed like the other man had completely zoned out, staring straight ahead at nothing specific.
Not knowing what to do, Roger took his own bottle again and emptied it before placing it back in its previous position on the coffee table. He remained leaned forward, arms on his thighs and hands folded in front of him for a moment. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to get up and just leave Rafa to his thoughts. He knew him long and well enough to know that it wasn’t unusual for him to kind of withdraw into himself. Especially before matches in the locker room, before he goes into his physical preparation routine and sometimes reminds Roger of an out of control bouncy ball, it is actually quite common for him to block everyone and everything around him out to fully focus on what lie ahead. This was different though. This wasn’t about tennis. This surely was about the topic they had just talked about, that he himself had brought up, so Roger decided to wait. He really regretted having mentioned the wedding. Rafa hadn’t talked about it once in the last couple of days, at least not with him, despite them having talked about a thousand other things outside tennis, including their respective families, for hours. Roger hadn’t even noticed up until now that the biggest, most obvious subject of conversation had been completely avoided. He was so happy in his little bubble, which had for most of the time just been occupied exclusively by him and Rafa - talking, coaching, laughing, fooling around - that he hadn’t even thought about the big event.
“Do you…” Rafa finally spoke up hesitantly and Roger almost jumped, having gotten lost in his own thoughts. “Do you think is possible…I think I…” he stopped again, shook his head and ran a nervous hand down his face. “Nothing.”
“Hey…” Roger sat back up straight to look at him, taking in the nervously bouncing leg and the way long fingers tore at the label of the bottle. “It’s obviously not nothing. You can talk to me, whatever it is.”
“I know”, Rafa looked at the small bits of paper that had fallen onto his thighs. In a frustrated move he swiped them to the floor and dropped the bottle carelessly onto the coffee table, this time running both hands over his face. “But better not.”
“Okay…okay, I get it. Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Let us both get some rest.” Forcing a smile on his face, Roger pushed himself up. Despite trying to convince everyone who asked that the two of them are not best friends or even friends at all, Roger knew that Rafa trusted him completely with everything except injuries. And vice versa, there was no one on tour Roger trusted more. So knowing there seemed to be something Rafa didn’t want to share with him, didn’t feel comfortable telling him, just hurt. Irrationally and stupidly it really hurt a lot.
“Rog…” Strong yet gentle fingers wrapped around his wrist. He looked over his shoulder down at Rafa, who was looking up at him with distressed eyes, seeming torn between speaking up and letting Roger leave. Without taking his eyes off him, Roger sat back down. Only then, Rafa let go of his wrist.
“Do you think is possible to…” Rafa hesitated, pressing his lips together nervously. Then he looked directly at Roger and continued, “to love two people at the same time?”
All Roger could do was gasp and stare at Rafa, his mind momentarily wiped clean of every thought. No way, there was just no way, it was simply impossible. Feelings he had been dealing with for close to fifteen years, that had always been there, ever present, especially while spending a lot of time in close proximity to the man looking at him completely lost right now, hit him with full force now. Because he had been trying to push them away, ignore them, simply refuse to acknowledge them but never could get rid of them. It felt like now they were there stronger than ever, bubbling back up to the surface over the last couple of days and with one simple question by Rafa bursting out like a geyser. He blinked when Rafa turned away from him, something like shame written on his face. “Oh puta…Please, Roger, olvídalo, just forget that, please…just…please…”
“I don’t think - I know.” Rafa’s head whipped back around at Roger’s words, eyes wide open in surprise. Roger was surprised himself, the words having been spoken without him consciously deciding to do so. “Because I do.”
Roger almost had to laugh at the way Rafa’s mouth opened and closed a few times, searching for something to say. He didn’t laugh, the whole situation was just too serious for that. He did feel some kind of weight had been lifted from his shoulders though, even with everything still being pretty vague. In fact, Roger didn’t even know who Rafa was referring to. The very real possibility of that other person not even being himself made him feel sick. He looked away from Rafa, anywhere but at him was better. Suddenly, it was he who felt very stupid. Fingers touched his upper arm, withdrawing again quickly. “You…What?”
There was his chance. He could say it was a misunderstanding, move on and never ever talk about it again. Their friendship wouldn’t suffer, they had been through much worse than that. It had felt so good to reveal half of this truth though. He looked back at Rafa, who was watching him with tightly pressed together lips, his whole body looked tense, hands clenched into fists on his thighs. He lifted his gaze to Rafa’s again, warm brown eyes, full of understanding and unsureness equally, meeting his own. “I do love two people at the same time. Have done so for a very long time.” The whole truth was almost out and there was no turning back anymore. It was all in now. No more hiding his feelings in front of Rafa, even though he still was unsure about who Rafa was talking about, he just had to risk it. “I think you know who those people are, Rafael.”
“I…” Rafa shook his head, ran a hand down his face, shook his head again and let out what sounded like a disbelieving laugh. “I never dream…never believed…never hoped…Can not be true, no? No way. I tell myself, Roger is so much above me, out of reach, no way he feel like that for me…is just nice to me, like he is nice to everyone, nothing special about looks or touchs…and is married and so happy with beautiful kids…absolutely not does he feel like that…for sure never for me…”
Rafa’s self-doubt and the way he sometimes belittled himself was a thing of absolute amazement and bewilderment to Roger. “Never ever have I been out of your reach. Not when we first met, not anytime since then, not now. If anything, it was the other way around. And I do feel like that, I really really do.”
Again Rafa shook his head and hid his face behind both his hands, taking a few slow breaths and not moving at all afterwards. Roger watched him, giving him the time he needed to process what Roger had just confessed to him.
“Eres el amor de mi vida…” The words were whispered softly into the silence of the room after some time, as if they needed to be spoken out loud just once but at the same time weren’t supposed to be actually heard by the person they were meant for.
Roger did hear them though. And even without speaking much Spanish his multilingual brain had enough of a grasp on certain words that there was no mistaking what they meant. Rafa wasn’t looking at him, fiddling with a loose thread at the seam of his sweatpants. Tentatively Roger reached out, fingertips slowly brushing over a t-shirt glad shoulder, as they had done countless times before but somehow completely different. He moved them up, barely touching Rafa’s ear and slipping through soft hair, tucking it behind the ear. “I think I understood that.”
The corner of Rafa’s mouth lifted marginally while he was ever so slightly leaning into the hand that was covering the side of his head now. “I know.”
“God, Rafa, there aren’t enough words in any language to properly describe what I’m feeling for you. You’re…you’re…” Roger shook his head, trying to find a way to express the words he had been trying to hold back longer than he dared remember. “You’re everything. Have been from the very beginning, turned my whole world completely upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. All I thought I knew about myself suddenly felt different…You are everything to me.”
“I love you since I had- since I was 16 years old.” Rafa glanced up at him, tilting his head a bit more into Roger’s hand. “Before we have really met, watched you play, no? So perfect, so beautiful. Look so beautiful, too. Then know you and love you more and more, all the years, never stopped. Always.”
“Raf…” Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to Rafa’s, feeling Rafa’s hand touch and move up over his chest and neck until it covered the back of his head. Their breaths were mingling between them, noses lightly brushing. “I’m so in love with you. I tried not to. I tried so hard not to love you.” Roger pressed his forehead harder against Rafa’s and changed the angle so he could look into his eyes. “But it’s impossible…It’s just impossible not to love you.”
“Rog…” Rafa lifted his other hand to cup Roger’s cheek, both hands framing his face while he closed his eyes and took some deep breaths.
Roger lifted his head a bit to be able to look at Rafa’s face. His one hand was still covering the side of his head while he moved up the other to brush some strands from his forehead, fingertips trailing over Rafa’s temple and resting on his cheek. He let his eyes study the face in front of him, prominent cheekbones, perfect nose, lips that looked soft and inviting, back up to the still closed eyes, dark lashes resting on tanned skin. The man was simply beautiful. That obviously wasn’t a new revelation for Roger, he had always been more than aware of the attractiveness of the other man and the effect he had on other people. He had just never allowed himself to look that much and that closely, let alone think for more than a fleeting moment every now and then about kissing him. He could just lean in now, just do it without caring about the consequences, but Rafa’s eyes were still closed, his breath becoming slightly faster, and it just felt wrong like that. Instead, he leaned forward again and softly brushed his nose against the other man’s. “Raf…” The word was nothing but a soft breath between them but Rafa’s eyes opened, immediately meeting his own. For a moment they just stared at each other, breathing irregularly together. The fingers still holding his face dug a bit deeper into his skin while Rafa’s eyes drifted down to Roger’s lips. And then they were closing the little bit of distance between them simultaneously.
The moment their lips met, they were moving together perfectly. Roger didn’t have that many first kisses in his life but the ones he still remembered were nothing like that, too messy, too sloppy, too rushed, far from perfect. But it was unfair to compare, he was much younger and much more inexperienced back then and so were his partners. Rafa tilting his head, changing the angel of the kiss and deepening it, eliminated every other thought from his mind. Nothing except Rafa existed anymore, just the two of them finally doing what he had longed for, even if it was just subconsciously, for years. He moved one hand to the back of Rafa’s head while the other slipped down to Rafa’s chest, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, using both hands to coax him closer. Their mouths opened together, allowing tongues to meet and explore. Roger felt Rafa’s grip on him tightening, his hands having moved into his hair and pulling him closer as well. He held on to the shirt in his hand even more firmly, as if Rafa would disappear if he let go. The kiss had a desperate edge to it by now, neither of them wanting to stop but the need to take a breath becoming more and more urgent. Rafa’s hands moved to Roger’s shoulders, fumbling with his t-shirt there before moving to the back of his neck and grabbing the fabric, pulling it up Roger’s back until he had most of it between his fingers.
Roger finally pulled back with a gasp and the soft whimper coming from Rafa sent a shiver down his spine. The younger man was still holding onto his shirt and his own hand was still fisted in Rafa’s. Their eyes met again and without even thinking about it, Roger lifted his arms. Rafa stared at him, breathing still heavily and then slowly pulled the shirt over his head. It dropped carelessly to the floor. They looked at each other again, barely breaking eye contact while Rafa sat up and removed his own shirt. He was towering over Roger now, one leg bent on the sofa and the other on the floor. Roger rightened himself up some more as well, hands reaching out to slowly run up Rafa’s flanks. Fingers spreading over the warm skin, feeling the muscles covering the ribcage and gently pulling him closer. Lips met again immediately, kissing slowly. Rafa’s left hand wandered over Roger’s chest, fingers running through the hair there while his other hand rested against the side of Roger’s neck. Roger let his hands skim up and down Rafa’s back, strong and defined muscles slightly moving under his touch. He encircled Rafa completely when the other man’s hand also moved to his back, pulling him closer again until their chests pressed together
When Roger slowly moved backwards, pulling the body against his own with him, Rafa reluctantly broke the kiss. Again, their eyes connected immediately and Roger saw his own desire reflected in Rafa’s. He also saw his own insecurity and uncertainty there. What they were doing was wrong for so many reasons but he was willing to ignore that, he couldn’t deny that. Right now, he was so high on feelings that had been held back for too many years, never to be acknowledged but now spoken out loud and reciprocated, he was ready to just elope with him, if Rafa were to just ask him. That thought alone should shock him and make him end this right this very moment, but he had loved the man in his arms for so long without any hope of something ever happening between them that leaving now just was no option.
“Is…just you and me, no?” Rafa finally whispered, stopping his train of thoughts. Gentle fingers ran through his hair again. “Like on court. Nothing else exist…just you and me…”
It wasn’t a question, really. It wasn’t a statement either. It was more like an option, a solution, a make-believe scenario to make them both feel better. Rafa was watching him closely, eyes wandering over his face, looking for a reaction, probably ready to agree with whatever Roger decided. A reversion into days long gone. And maybe Roger had turned into the worst possible human being in the last couple of minutes and will go straight to hell one day but he could worry about that later. He tightened his grip around Rafa and whispered against pliant lips, “Yeah. You and me.”
Rafa then kissed him with an intensity he hadn’t expected. It took him a moment to kiss back just as hungrily, clinging to the other man like his life depended on it. “I love you”, he breathed between two kisses, unable of stopping to say it now that he was allowed to. “I love you…Ich liebe dich”, again he moved backwards, this time without stopping and ending up laying on his back with Rafa on top of him. They were still kissing and he still could not stop murmuring those three little words, as if they made everything better, as if they were all that mattered anymore. “I love you.”
“Love you, too”, Rafa whispered back, kissing him again. “Yo también te amo. I love you.”
They were pressed together more or less from chests to toes, leaving no doubt to either of them how much they wanted this. Rafa’s hands were buried in Roger’s hair again while they were sharing another deep kiss. Roger let one hand drift down Rafa’s back while Rafa broke the kiss to trail his lips over Roger’s jaw to his neck. Ever so slowly, Roger let the tips of his fingers slip underneath the waistband of Rafa’s pants, causing the man above him to move against him, shivering a bit, pushing closer. Roger couldn’t hold back the soft groan that escaped him, burying his nose in Rafa’s hair. Carefully he pushed his hand completely into Rafa’s pants to palm the curve of his backside, pressing his lips against his ear, breathing roughly. “God, I want you.”
“Yeah”, Rafa gasped against his neck. “Yeah…Rogelio…” More open-mouthed kisses were pressed against Roger’s neck, his collarbone, across his chest and back to his neck. At the same time, he felt Rafa’s hand run down his side to his hip, pushing between their bodies to move along the waistband of his own pants and finally coming to a rest on the bulge in the middle. Roger let his eyes fall close, this time not even trying to hold back the moan, matching Rafa’s groan. “Rog…”
“Yes…” Roger pressed his fingers deeper into Rafa’s skin, his free hand tangling in his hair. “Yes, Baby…”
“Rog…No…” The hand that had slowly been caressing him suddenly disappeared although still more kisses were mouthed against his neck and jawline. For a moment the word had not fully registered in Roger’s distracted mind and the fact that Rafa hadn’t pulled back made him think he must have simply misheard him. He pressed kisses against Rafa’s temple, his ear, but moved his hand up to the small of Rafa’s back. He felt more than heard Rafa’s desperate whine against his skin. “No…Rog…no…¡Joder!”, another couple of wet kisses that made Roger almost sure Rafa was talking to himself, before Rafa tore his head up, breath heavy against the skin of Roger’s face. “Roger…” He stared down at him, the tortured look on his face tearing Roger apart. “Rog, I can’t…we can’t…we not…”, Rafa shook his head, placing a hand against Roger’s cheek. “We are not like that…we…no cheaters…”
“Rafa…we already are.” Roger mirrored Rafa’s motion, placing a hand against one cheek. “We’ve already crossed the line.” It was an undeniable fact; there was no way around it. What they had done so far can’t be excused away as some kind of slip up, heat of the moment thing. They both were in way too deep, physically and emotionally.
Rafa squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lower lip. “I know…but we not…did not go all the way yet…” When he opened his eyes again, they were shining with unshed tears. “I cannot do that to her, hurt her so much…We gonna get married, Roger…You are married…we can not just forget that…” Rafa closed his eyes again and leaned down to press his forehead against Roger’s. The choked up, distressed words, in English as heavily accented as he hasn’t heard from Rafa in years, uttered inches from his skin making tears well up in his own eyes. “Is not fair…I’m so sorry, Rogi…please forgive me…”
“Oh no, nonono, shhh”, Roger quickly took a gentle hold of Rafa’s head with both hands to lift it up. Rafa’s eyes were still closed and he was again biting down hard on his lip. “Hey, look at me, love.” Beautiful brown eyes opened, immediately connecting with his own. “There’s absolutely nothing to forgive. Not a thing, Rafa.” The younger man moved his head in a tiny hint of a nod. His eyes were still shimmering with tears, both their visions slightly blurred by them. Roger let his eyes move over Rafa’s face once again, brushing another strand of hair from his forehead, fingers trailing down soft skin until they rested against his jaw. “You are so, so special. The most extraordinary person I ever met.”
A few tears welled over and Rafa tilted his head down, resulting in a tear dropping on Roger’s cheek. “Don’t say that, for sure is not true.”
“Yes, it’s true”, Roger whispered, while wiping away some of Rafa’s tears, ignoring his own. He couldn’t explain why they were spilling over now but didn’t try to hold them back. “You just showed that again.”
Rafa observed him for a long moment before he leant down and kissed Roger’s tears from his cheeks, then placing kisses all over his face, ending at his lips. They were kissing again, slow and deep and sensual, melting into each other once more. After a while, Roger couldn’t tell if mere seconds or long minutes, Rafa broke away with a frustrated force and a sob and buried his face in Roger’s neck. Rafa slipped a bit to the side, taking his full body weight off Roger and Roger moved more towards the edge of the sofa, enabling Rafa to lie a bit more on his side and working one arm underneath Roger to wrap it around his back. The bandaged hand came to a rest on Roger’s collarbone, fingers spreading wide and pressing into his skin. Again, words were breathed against his neck but this time Roger didn’t understand them. “Para mi, siempre serás la mejor persona del mundo, por siempre mi número uno.”
Roger didn’t ask. He thought he might have understood the last two words and the sentiment behind them but it had been ages since Rafa had called him that, so he wasn’t entirely sure. He placed his left hand at the back of Rafa’s head and his right one on top of Rafa’s left, inclining his head to press it against the part of Rafa’s it could reach. A few tears were still, or again, running down his face and he felt a telltale wetness on his neck but neither of them made any sound. Their breathing calmed down, both of them unintentionally breathing in-sync with the other. With the lights and the TV still on, the room was too bright for Roger to completely quiet down. He closed his eyes, focusing on Rafa’s warmth against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against his own, the breath against his neck. His fingers gently stroked Rafa’s head without moving his hand. He kind of felt like his hand could protect Rafa from the outside world, shielding his head from any negative thoughts, building a kind of cocoon together with his neck that Rafa can hide in. Roger moved his other hand up Rafa’s naked arm, pulling him closer and holding him tighter. He knew, maybe better than anyone who wasn’t Rafa’s closest family, how fragile and vulnerable the man in his arms could get. He felt things intensely, positive as well as negative. And he was empathetic on a level that was incomprehensible sometimes.
Memories from ten years ago flashed back into his mind. Memories of tears he just couldn’t stop from falling, of not being able to form an intelligible sentence in front of a sold-out stadium and millions watching on TV. That crushing feeling of his career just having been destroyed for good at the age of 27 because he just couldn’t beat the guy five years his junior anymore, no matter what and how hard he tried. The expression on that same guy’s face, partly hidden by wild and sweaty strands of hair, indicating that he had just been forced to kill an innocent little baby animal and not that he had just won another Grand Slam. That same face suddenly being inches away from his, an arm wrapped around his shoulder and a trophy that should have been his held between them, while he desperately wanted to throw away the runner-up plate his arm was barely holding onto. A forehead pressed against his temple, soft and comforting words whispered into his ears in broken English just for the two of them to hear. The smile that slipped on his face unprompted, because damn it, that Spanish force of nature might be ruining his career but he still really, really liked that guy way too much to be angry at him, let alone actually hate him. Liked him way more than he should, way more than made any kind of sense. So many mixed up feelings overwhelming him.
Another memory came back to Roger then, one he had suppressed and buried in the deepest depths of his mind, of a conversation with his then fiancée, shortly after that night in Australia. “Mirka once asked me if I’m in love with you.”
Rafa stirred slightly against him, sniffed softly but didn’t move otherwise. “What?”
“Before we got married. Just before, actually. After we came back from Australia back then.” Roger stared at the ceiling, suddenly remembering every single word from that confrontation, the way she had looked at him, how he felt like he had been punched in the face and kicked in the stomach simultaneously. “Didn’t even ask, really, just…said…”
“Roger, are you just marrying me now because I’m pregnant?”
“What? Of course not.”
“We’ve been together eight years. You never asked, we never really talked about it unless someone else brought it up. Because, you know, people do wonder why a couple that’s been together for so long hasn’t tied the knot yet. Can’t blame them, because I did wonder the same thing. Why hasn’t he asked? We’re good together, work perfectly together, people envy us for what we have. So what’s holding him back? Why is he scared of committing fully?”
“I’m not scared, Mirka! It just wasn’t my biggest priority until now. You know that tennis is what matters the most right now, you knew that from the beginning. And you never said anything either! Of course does us becoming parents change things but that’s not the reason!”
“Yeah, that’s what I told myself, too. Didn’t want to believe there’s another reason. But I’m there at all the matches, you know, at most of the off-court stuff. I do have eyes…”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Simply put, Roger: You’re in love with him.”
“Wha-…him-who?...What are you even talking about?”
“Oh Roger, come on, don’t play stupid! Nadal, of course!”
“What!? I…that…That is absolutely ridiculous! You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking, Mirka!”
“I wish! I see the way you act around him, how you look at him, how you can’t stop touching him, how you never say one single bad word about him even after he made you cry in front of the whole world and destroys you on court again and again.”
“’Destroys’ is a bit harsh-“
“That’s not the point!”
“That’s called sportsmanship, Mirka, being a nice human being and respectful to your opponent!”
“It’s different with the other guys…”
“It’s not! Hell, I barely know the guy! We’re hardly even friends! We can’t even communicate properly!”
“You can communicate just fine when you’re staring into each other’s eyes or sitting on each other’s laps after matches or when he, he of all people, is able to make you smile after your biggest losses! Not even I manage to do that…”
“Mirka, stop it. We’re rivals who do get along okay and maybe do understand what the other one is going through a bit better than anyone else because it’s just the two of us up there together alone, but that’s it. Whatever it is you think you’re seeing – it’s not there.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t have feelings for him? None whatsoever?”
“No feelings. I want to marry you because I love you. So much, Mirka. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and the little ones in there and maybe some more little ones in the future.”
“I lied”, Roger whispered and cleared his tightening throat. He felt Rafa’s grip on him tightening, a gesture of comfort even now. “Not about me loving her and wanting to be with her. But about my feelings for you…she was completely right and I lied straight to her face, probably made her feel super stupid, too. I think I panicked, nobody was supposed to know that, it freaked me out that I seemed to have been that obvious. Mostly I denied it even to myself. There was just really no point in admitting it to her then, you know? Why…why hurt her with a truth that is irrelevant in the end…” Roger shook his head, pressing his lips together. He felt a new wave of tears threatening to get the better of him. He felt like shit. “We never talked about it again and I tried to eradicate the whole thing from my mind. Worked for the conversation, not so much for my feelings for you.”
“I think you are right. When the true hurts more than the lie and the lie has no consequences, sometimes is better to say the lie to the people we love.” Rafa took a deep breath, face still pressed against his neck. “But is different now…”
“Yes.” Turning his head, Roger pushed his nose into Rafa’s hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. “Everything’s different now.”
“I think Mery knows my heart is not only with her”, Rafa said softly. “She never says but sometimes…sometimes she looks…so sad. When you won Roland Garros, she watched with me. I knew how much you wanted it. After I was out, I wanted you to win so much and then you did and I was so happy for you. It was really emotional and you cried and it made me cry, too. Mery, she saw and she looked at me so…surprised and confused and then just so sad, no? Ten years now and she still with me, she never said nothing but since then she often look like that when I watch your matches or when we talk about you, with the team and the family…”
Roger sighed deeply, lips pressed against Rafa’s scalp. “I don’t know…I don’t know what to tell you, Raf. I don’t know what to do really…All I do know is that I want you in my life. Like this, holding you, touching you, kissing you…But I can’t, I can’t leave Mirka. I really do love her. And the kids, God, losing them would kill me. I can’t…Fuck, I can’t lose them and I don’t wanna lose you and I know that makes me a complete egoistical bastard but I just can’t-“ The tears came back unbidden with a sob and Roger hated it but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He felt like he had put himself and Rafa, and unknowingly both their significant others, in a position where in the end everyone would get hurt.
“Rog”, Rafa finally lifted his head to look at him. The tenderness in his eyes didn’t do anything to help stop Roger’s tears. Rafa reached up, fingers brushing them away. “I never want you to leave your family. Never, Rog. Is why I stopped. We need to do this the right way. I love Mery, too. I do not wanna lose her as well. She…always support me, good times and when is tough…always gives me calm…I need her, I don’t think I can do it without her…”
Tears were back in Rafa’s eyes now, too, and Roger understood perfectly. It, both their tennis lives, could all get too much and hard to handle sometimes and he was sure that Mery was for Rafa what Mirka was for Roger – a grounding constant by his side, someone to lean on and rely on and every now and then show weakness to. He shook his head with a broken laugh. “God, we’re such idiots!”
Rafa replied with his own watery laugh and a sharp nod. “Yes.”
Their teary eyes met again and for a long moment they just looked at each other, breathing together again. After some time, Roger moved to lie on his side, Rafa copying his movement right away, so they were both in a more comfortable position, facing each other. Rafa leaned forward to touch his forehead to Roger’s for a moment and then pulled back to meet his eyes again. “I gonna talk to Mery, when I am home. First thing I do.”
“I’ll talk to Mirka, too, after tomorrow, back home. But Rafa…” Roger bit down on his lip, placing a hand in Rafa’s neck. “If she makes you choose, me or her-“
“Roger, no…” Rafa closed his eyes and Roger was glad about it. He wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to say what he knew was the only right thing, if he had to look into those beautifully emotive eyes right then.
“If she makes you choose, you choose her.” Roger hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. “You’re going to get married and have a ton of beautiful babies or no babies if you don’t want that but either way, you’re gonna be so happy and have a great life and forget all about what happened tonight.”
Rafa’s eyes opened to stare at him in a mix of disbelieve and anger. “Eres incomprensible estúpido a veces! Crees que puedo tener una gran vida sin ti! Estoy completamente enamorado de ti! Me romperá mi puñetero corazón!” Rafa stopped and kept staring at him, probably just now realizing that he had slipped fully into quick fire Spanish and with a frustrated huff pushed himself into a sitting position at the end of the couch. “There is no ‘so happy’ with no you in my life!”
Roger sat up himself, running a hand through his hair to tame it down. He needed to at least try to be reasonable here, even if it killed him. “It would be like before…”
“It is not ever gonna be like before, Roger!” Rafa reached down to pick up a t-shirt from the floor and after realizing it was Roger’s threw it at him, hitting him straight in the face. Roger wasn’t sure if that was actually on purpose or an accident but refrained from commenting on it. Rafa was pissed, which was something Roger had not that much experience with, especially off court. Sure, he had his angry moments when he was unhappy with the way he performed or when he felt he had been treated unfairly, but usually they passed quickly. He watched the younger man get up and grab his own t-shirt from the floor, where it had landed a bit further away from the sofa, and put it back on. “Maybe for you can be. Not for me. I cannot pretend that. Or you just say because you want to believe.”
“Damn you for knowing me so well”, Roger murmured while pulling his own piece of clothing back on. The funny thing was that he really did. Reflecting on it, Rafa really knew him and understood him in ways no one else did and could. Not even his own wife. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Rafa. This whole situation is just so fucked up and I don’t think I’ve ever been this planless about how to handle a difficult situation. I just tried to make this easier for you at least. And I guess I do want to pretend that we could go back to before. I’m good at pretending, worked for many years after all…but no, I can’t either now. Too much happened for that.”
“Just…” Rafa sank his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few breaths. Again Roger wanted nothing more than wrap him into his arms and shield him from the rest of the world. At the moment Rafa needed a bit of distance though, his body slightly turned away from Roger, one arm wrapped around his own mid-section, the hand of the other still covering his face. “Just promise…if things go wrong…just promise you gonna still be you.”
Rafa finally looked at him, eyes pleading with him to understand what he meant but could not find the words for. Still be my fiercest rival, still be my most unlikely friend, still be my partner in tennis politics, still be the role model of our sport with me, still share things with me that no one else ever could, still be the love of my life even if only from the distance. Roger swallowed hard and nodded. “I promise. I swear.”
Biting down hard on his lower lip, Rafa nodded, too. “Me too.”
“Starting tomorrow…well today.” It was long past midnight and Roger had no idea how he was supposed to play two matches in a couple of hours. He looked at Rafa’s bandaged hand, inwardly cursing Rafa’s body for letting him down once again.
“I am so sorry about that”, Rafa interrupted his thoughts, lifting the hand in question before letting it drop to his side again.
“No, don’t worry about it. But now that I gotta take care of business for you, I really need to get some sleep.” Roger smirked and pushed himself up.
“Nick gonna be happy to play you, you’re his big idol.” The grin on Rafa’s face made Roger smile for reasons that had nothing to do with what they were talking about. It was just so much better than the sorrowful look he wore moments before.
“I don’t care. I hope I can beat him again, just for you. And the team. But mostly for you.” Roger took a step towards him but didn’t close the distance completely. “Anyway, I think I’ll really need you out there later, it’s gonna be some tough matches.”
“For sure. I’ll be there of course.” Rafa smiled and Roger would do anything to keep that smile there forever.
“Thank you”, Roger smiled back. Something still stopped him from getting closer to Rafa though. Like something very precious yet very fragile might get irreparably broken if he made a wrong move. They had just promised each other that no matter what happened, their relationship would not change for the worse even if it couldn’t be like before anymore. Right now that felt almost impossible to stick to. If they couldn’t even be too close to each other anymore...Roger inhaled deeply. “Well, I’m really gonna leave now. See you in a couple hours, Rafa.”
Rafa nodded, arms wrapped around his own chest. They looked at each other uncertainly for a few seconds before both quickly turned away and Roger made his way to the door. He really needed to get out of here, maybe even catch some fresh air outside, before returning to his, by now hopefully soundly sleeping, wife.
“Good night, Roger”, Rafa said softly behind him. “Sleep well.”
“Good night”, he turned around one last time, eyes meeting Rafa’s, who had come a few steps closer. Suddenly it felt like as if the gap they had let build between them over the last couple of minutes would not be closed right this very second, they both would fall over its ledge and be lost in it forever. The need to physically feel that the other was still reachable, still there, threatening to suffocate Roger. The distance between them closed in a few long strides, both moving in sync and colliding in the middle. Lips met almost painfully, Roger’s hands clasping around Rafa’s face and Rafa’s grabbing his shirt to pull him closer still.
“We’ll work it out”, Roger gasped into Rafa’s mouth, between kisses that had slowed down by now. “We will.”
“Yes”, Rafa breathed back. His arms wrapped around Roger’s neck, angling his head to initiate another kiss, deep and slow and conveying everything simple words could not. Roger just wrapped his arms around Rafa, holding on to him tightly and let himself get lost one more time.
Obviously, it couldn’t last and Rafa’s slightly hoarse voice brought him back to reality, forehead pressed against his own, not having moved away an inch. That gesture of touching foreheads, at least something akin to it, Roger realized, had developed into their favorite intimate position long before tonight. It just felt so easy and natural to share a moment of closeness like that, and was helped by the fact that they had the exact same height. It was just made for them. They were made for it. Roger pressed a bit closer. “Rog…we have to, no? Find a way…”
Roger just nodded, not trusting his voice right then. He gulped, pressed another lingering kiss on Rafa’s lips and nodded again. “Ja…Yeah.”
Reluctantly and regretfully, Roger slowly let go of the man in his arms. Unreasonably, it really felt like it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. No way was he going to cry again, there was enough of that tonight already. “I really gotta go.”
“I know”, Rafa murmured with a hanging head, arms loosely at his side and Roger just had to pull him close once more, enveloping him in his arms and burying his face in his neck, like Rafa had done earlier. “Fuck, Rafa…”
“Te amo demasaido.” The words were softly spoken against his ear while he felt Rafa pulling him impossibly closer. “Hurts, too much love.”
Roger choked out a laugh, squeezing Rafa’s body gently. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
A kiss was pressed to the side of his head and then they both let go, smiling softly at each other. “Wish you can stay but you really need to go sleep, Rogelio.” Roger watched Rafa’s eyes glance over to the bedroom. The door was ajar, revealing nothing but darkness in the unlit room. Something in Rafa’s eyes made Roger want to stay and never leave again, wrap the man in his arms and hide them both under a blanket and forget about the rest of the world. But then Rafa blinked and looked at him, eyes clear and shining and beautiful again, smiling warmly and reaching out to squeeze his hand and Roger just sighed and returned the gesture. “Dulces sueños, Rog.”
“Schlaf gut, Rafa.” A last smile and Roger finally turned away and forced himself to really leave the room this time, not looking back again because he simply didn’t trust himself enough to resist falling back into Rafa’s arms and eventually ending up spending the night with him anyway. And God, he wanted to, he wanted to so badly. The strength of his desire to be close to the other man, now that he could, was allowed to, didn’t have to fight it anymore, that strength actually scared him. Just like the fact that he was ready to willingly throw away all his morals and principles for it. He closed the door and took a moment to just lean against the wall next to it, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. The intensity of the whole day, the whole weekend so far, was catching up to him and he had no idea how he was supposed to make it through the last day. He had to go back to his own suite now, where his wife was. His wife whom he really did love, he couldn’t repeat that often enough in his own head. Certainly, he would still be in that room he just left if he didn’t love her. Facing her was a different story though. He hated himself and he knew he was a coward for being close to praying that she was deeply asleep by now and he didn’t have to face her yet. He had to, obviously, there was no way around it, at the latest when they were going home together tomorrow. He just was in no state of mind to handle that talk the way it needs to be handled right now. Then he had two matches to play that he under no circumstances wanted to fuck up, had to be close to Rafa for another full day and act like their whole relationship didn’t change completely literally overnight, with dozens of cameras capturing his every move and under the watchful eyes of thousands of people in the stadium and in front of their TVs. There was also the rest of the team that wanted to spend as much time with him and Rafa as possible because the two of them were, factually and in this case unfortunately, beloved tennis heroes and idols Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.
Roger felt suddenly dizzy with the realization of what Rafa and him being Rafa and him actually meant, how complicated, how disastrous, things could end up becoming if this thing between them did go wrong. And not just for the two of them. “Oh, Jesus…fuck…” He ran a hand down his face, took another shaky breath and pushed himself off the wall, making his way to his own suite and telling himself that freaking out now was completely stupid and pointless. He just had to take one step at a time and the most important one now was plain and simple to get to sleep and make it through the next day. He stood in front of the door to his suite, leaning forward to find out if he could hear any noise from inside before slowly and carefully inserting the keycard into the slot, as if that would change the volume of the sound that system made. He rolled his eyes at himself and still bit down on his lip, when the beep of his card being accepted and the click of the door unlocking seemed to be twice as loud than usual. Cautiously he pushed down the handle and opened the door. Time to face his wife right away or be granted a short grace period. He silently stepped inside and closed the door behind him.